


Grief Is The Light

by deerna



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Just a tiny snippet, M/M, Missing Scene, Set after Old Soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 03:06:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12998505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerna/pseuds/deerna
Summary: “It’s really you, isn’t it?” he mumbled, and Gabriel ached at the pain in Jack’s voice.No, he wanted to answer.I died that day when I thought you hadn’t made it. But Jack was there in front of him, alive and angry and scared and somehow still hopeful- and Gabe hated that he could still read Jack’s emotions just by looking at him. Old as he looked, he wasn’t any different.





	Grief Is The Light

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the challenge Scavengers Hunt at Landedifandom for the prompt #26:
> 
>   * Gloria/ _Glory_
>   * Caduta/ _Fall_
>   * Giacinto/ _Hyachint_
>   * Paralume/ _Lampshade_
>   * Vernice glitter argentata o dorata/ _Glittery paint, in gold or silver._
> 

> 
> Title taken from _In Visible Light_ , by Lacuna Coil

Standing in the dark, a blade of cold light cutting across his cheekbones, Jack looked like an old man. His hair was silvery and short, looking soft like dawn and almost as pale, his face was scarred and creased. He looked so normal, wearing a stained and discolored pair of jeans, a brown leather jacket like many others, a checkered flannel shirt in shades of blue and green underneath.

He was just Jack Morrison, that night. There was no trace of the gaudy blue and white outfit he’d last seen him in. The only thing that made him recognizable as Soldier76 was the stolen pulse rifle in his arms, pointedly aimed at Gabriel’s face. 

“I almost didn’t recognize you without the mask,” Jack rasped , pulse rifle unwavering. “With that hair I thought you were some hobo trying to get lucky.” 

“I almost can’t believe you didn’t shoot at me as soon as the door closed,” Gabriel answered back, his shotguns level with Jack’s face. “Learning restraint in your old age?”

“If I had restraint, I wouldn’t be here.”

Gabriel snorted, and glanced around. Even with the lights off, he could tell that it was among the most squalid motel rooms he’d ever been in, and he’d seen quite a few shitty motels in his life. The peeling wallpaper was faded and stained, its pattern of stylized hyacinths barely visible; the furniture amounted to a queen size bed with a metal frame, a nightstand with a lamp on it, a desk in the corner and a chair. The curtains were pulled back, letting the streetlamps light in. 

Silence stretched between them, the only sound coming from the street below. 

Jack broke the silence first. “You said you wanted to talk on a neutral ground.”

“I didn’t know ‘on neutral ground’ meant ‘with a rifle in my face’, but I guess you and I always had communication issues-”

“You said you wanted to _talk_ ,” Jack growled again, gripping his rifle harder. “Then _talk_.”

Gabriel sighed and drew his shotguns back, making a show of pulling his fingers off the triggers and clicking the safeties on, before laying them on the bed between them and showing his empty hands afterwards. “Talking. That’s a thing we can do without weapons in our hands, mh?”

“Nice try- I’ve seen you disappear in thin air,” Jack said, and there was a flash of _fear_ in his eyes, a tremor in his clenched jaw. “I do not trust you, _Reaper_.” 

The disdain on that last word felt like a bullet in Gabriel’s gut, a slow and painful death. “Fair enough,” he answered, but the words tasted like dust in his mouth. He wiped his hands in his hoodie to stop himself from clenching them in fists. “Can I at least turn the lights on?”

“Be my guest.” 

Jack didn’t stop tracking him with the muzzle of his gun as Gabriel, turning his back on him in a show of trust that Jack didn’t do anything to deserve yet, crossed the room to get to the nightstand lamp. Its lampshade was riddled with bullet holes, and the glittery silver paint on its base didn’t do anything to conceal the rust and the bumps on the old thing, but surprisingly it still turned on when Gabriel pressed the switch, bathing the room in a golden light. 

“This is better, isn’t it?” Gabriel turned to glance at Jack and he found him frozen in place, a death grip on his gun and eyes wide with shock. “Jack?”

“It’s really you, isn’t it?” he mumbled, and Gabriel ached at the pain in Jack’s voice. 

_No_ , he wanted to answer. _I died that day when I thought you hadn’t made it_. But Jack was there in front of him, alive and angry and scared and somehow still hopeful- and Gabe hated that he could still read Jack’s emotions just by looking at him. Old as he looked, he wasn’t any different.

Suddenly self-conscious about his own appearance, Gabriel squashed the urge to touch his own face, to check if all of his skin was still in place. He couldn’t allow himself that fidgeting, not when Jack was still unsure of him and of his intentions. “Yes, it’s me,” he simply answered. 

“You attacked us,” Jack insisted. “You shot at us, tried to drive us away.”

He stared at him, unblinking. “Yes, I did.” 

“Are you really working with Talon?”

It was no use lying. “Yes, I am.” 

Jack’s knuckles were white around the rifle. “Is this a trap? Are you here to kill me?”

“Would I tell you if I were?” Gabe huffed, slowly walking around the bed, hands raised, tiredness pulling at the grimace he forced on his face. “You spent too many years off duty, Commander, you used to be better at this. Maybe going back to the field didn’t do a world of good, as comfortable as you’ve grown in your dainty little office.” 

Something in Jack unclenched, and he lowered the pulse rifle. “ _Gabriel_.” 

The tension in Gabriel’s cheeks released, and he smiled. “Hello, Jack.” 

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
>   
> 


End file.
